


Straying From Comfort

by dearxalchemist



Category: Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Other, Romance, answered prompts, writing prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 18:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19156726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearxalchemist/pseuds/dearxalchemist
Summary: There's the rough clearing of a throat. "I believe ya’ have my shirt on.”The low drawl of the Gunslinger bring him back to reality to which he exhales with that sleepy smile on his handsome face, “It was in this pile I assumed was clean.”“It is," His Cowboy tells him so with that comfort that draws him further into the bed they share.(a collection of answered tumblr prompts)





	1. "Okay to Cry"

It starts in a swell of panic at the end of a battle. The world around them is half silent, half screaming, his ears are ringing and he can’t find his partner. He can’t find the shining metal of old crafted armor in the debris around him. The world was on the brink of ending with the sky split open to reveal the cosmos as alien like parasitic robots spilled into their world. It wasn’t the first invasion and Greg is certain it won’t be the last either. It seems their job is never done, never ending, he’ll never retire on that ranch he keeps dreaming of.

“Where are you?” Greg’s voice is hoarse and he finds himself in a coughing fit, his shoulders shaking as he pulls himself up, knocking rocks and wood away, pushing one of his infamous guns into its holster, the other one is lost. He doesn’t bother with looking for it as he pulls the bandana away from his mouth, “Justin!”

His voice is less rough now, more solid despite the panic creeping in. His dark gaze flicks about and he can see his fellow league members picking themselves up. Shayera’s wings cast a shadow in the distance as she hauls splintered pieces of an alien ship off of some of the younger members. The Kryptonians are zipping about, the fastest man alive is nursing a broken leg– slowed down for a change. It feels as if everyone is accounted for except his knight in shining armor. Greg moves faster now, his hands gripping at wood and metal, tossing it aside, shouting now with the rising dust that he’s kicking up. His southern drawl is cracked and he ignores the pain in his side, he needs medical attention just like everyone else.

“Justin!” He moves further now, wading across the broken street of Metropolis. His heart begins chipping away at his ribs with heavy thundering, hands pulling at metal bars, pushing up mounds of concrete as he sees the first bit of chainmail beneath dust. He hauls away what he can, hands closing around the upper arms of his best friend turned lover. Greg pulls him out and can’t help but see the puddle of deep red around him, it smears through his chainmail armor, there’s cuts on his face but those are superficial in comparison to the other. Greg’s knees strike the earth and he’s leaning over the man now with his dirty palms clasping at his cheeks, “Wake up for me, wake up now.”

His southern drawl quivers on the end, bottom lip catching between his teeth as the man below him slowly opens his eyes. They’re glassy and light, rims of them edged in tears and Greg wonders if it’s from the adrenaline of battle wearing off, or if the pain is too much to bear even for a knight of his caliber.

“You are here.” Ser Justin’s voice is a whisper, but the edges of his cracked lips turn into a bit of a small smile, “You always are here.”

Greg moves his hands lower, one palm resting on Justin’s chest while the other skates down his side where the blood is most prominent, warm and sticky, there’s so much of it. He tries to smile, “Of course I’m always gonna be here, I ain’t got nowhere better to be.”

His hand touches the side of Ser Justin’s sticky armor when the other man nearly cries out, his teeth clacking together as he clenches his jaw, swallowing a shout. It’s a fatal wound. They both know it. Tears spring out of Justin’s eyes now.

His chest heaves slowly, “I am not ready.”

He says the words so softly.

“You ain’t leaving me.” Greg is final, rough in his voice despite falling apart on the inside. His nerves are unraveling like loose yarn. He holds tighter to his partner, and Justin’s voice is a quivering mess. Greg leans down, foreheads touching, “It’s okay you know, to cry.”

Justin closes his eyes and keeps his forehead to Greg’s trying to hold back the pain as his cowboy starts shouting for one of the Kryptonians, for Diana, for anyone to come help as blackness bleeds into his world and cold is creeping in fast.

“I love you,” he croaks out the words, but he’s unsure if they are heard as he lets himself let go.


	2. "Shirt Stealing"

**  
Anonymous asked: #2 Vigilante/Shining Knight**

**#2 Your shirt/jumper was in the laundry pile and I couldn’t help but steal it.**

 

There’s nothing special about it, it’s a simple red shirt made of cotton. It’s soft around the edges, so soft that it barely catches on the calluses on his hand. Armor is spilled across the floor and the shower is running on high, steam escapes the bottom of the door, telling him that his partner is going to be a little longer. He takes his time, holding the shirt out, best judging the size of it before he pulled it over his form. It stretches around his chest and he’s instantly greeted with scent of desert, cactus blooms, and gunpowder.

Comfort envelops him, keeps him at peace with his sore muscles begging for a few hours more of sleep, but sleep eludes him as he sinks into the bed alone. Though the sound of the shower is a wonderful lull, he misses the feel of the Cowboy’s arm draped across his chest. A heavy, yet welcoming reminder of a grounding, of someone waiting for him to return home mission after mission. There is no other who strips away his armor quite like him.

Ser Justin sinks back onto the bed with it’s messy covers, sheet coming off the corner of the mattress, and lays down. The quietness of the dormitory style room lures him into sleep. His eyes feel quite heavy and before he can stop himself he’s asleep once more. Closing his eyes and drifting away until something cool drips across his cheek.

Slowly the world swirls around him and comes back into focus with a very handsome, very naked man staring back at him with a towel haphazardly wrapped around his waist, bending over him. Water leftover from his shower drops onto Justin’s cheek and he finds himself smiling down into the pillow.

“I believe ya’ have my shirt on.”

The low drawl of the Gunslinger bring him back to reality to which he exhales, “It was in this pile I assumed was clean.”

“It is.”

“What if I told you, I couldn’t help myself?” He tries, turning over onto his back, reaching for the other man.

“Well, you get somethings right after all.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written these two before, so this was new! Sorry if it's garbage but feel free to come scream at me on tumblr: @felicia-parker


End file.
